


In Shining Armor

by intoapuddle



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: D/s, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 21:26:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intoapuddle/pseuds/intoapuddle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris/Darren in a world where you're either a Dominant or a Submissive. Seven months ago Darren was on a dark path. Meeting Chris caused him to re-route and learn what being a Submissive really means to him.<br/>This is the story of when their scenes-only “Sub and Master” relationship is challenged as their feelings grow stronger.</p><p>Restraints, spanking, come play, blindfolds, toys, anal sex. Mentions of Chris/Other people and Darren/Other people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Shining Armor

The ropes feel rough and itchy against the tender skin of Darren's wrists. The muscles in his upper arms strain and stretch for his hands to reach to the small of his back. They're bound tight enough for him to feel his entire body. His shoulders, pushed back and his shoulder blades, shifting in place beneath his skin. The skin of his chest stretches a little bit, his throat long and exposed to keep his head up. His ass cheeks clench to keep him upright on his knees, slightly bent forward. His abs are taking a beating from this. His breathing comes up short at times and his heart speeds up to even out as the muscle that was causing his discomfort aligns to the position he's in.

It's like an embrace, the suspense and the discomfort and knowing he was bound like this because it's what his Dom thought he needed. It's what his Dom told him he needed.

The creak and swing of a door opening is like a gunshot in Darren's ears. It rattles him out of the awareness of his body, out of the in-and-out breathing that allowed him to be in position and thriving on the slight pain instead of suffering from it. He chokes, his eyes stir beneath his closed eyelids, he can feel the cloth covering his eyes; a dry, unforgiving restraint tied around his head. His nose twitches.

One touch to the skin between his shoulder blades by the person approaching thankfully stops the shaking. Darren exhales chokingly. The sob is dry and pitched oddly high. Chris's hand is cold and his palm puts no pressure, just an assurance that it's there. That he's there. Warmth spreads within Darren.

“Calm,” Chris says steadily, and Darren can hear him settle down onto his knees beside him, hand still in place. “Not yet.”

Darren swallows. His Dom is so good to him.

“Open your mouth.”

Darren opens his mouth, jaw slack. The hand of his back is like a pulse. The rhythm of the sensation keeps his heart beating. Chris puts something against Darren's lower lip, something plastic and small that he can't really place just from the feeling of it.

“Suck.”

It's a straw, Darren realizes as he obeys his Dom. The liquid is sweet and clear, a cold blessing down his throat. A few mouthfuls later and Darren's strength is renewed. He no longer has to think about the way his body feels in this position to keep upright. The physical presence of his Dom helps as well, though nothing about this is even close to suffering. He can feel Chris in the itchy ropes around his wrists, in his straining muscles, in his uneven breathing, in the time that passes as he waits. He can feel him and it sends jolts of silent ecstasy throughout him. Chris wants this. Chris thrives on this.

The straw disappears. There's a sound of a thud when Chris puts the glass away. Darren doesn't realize he's smiling until his lower lip is traced by Chris's soft but demanding thumb.

Darren exhales through his mouth. Something sparks in him. He needs. He needs.

Chris feels the change as it happens.

“Hold out for me,” he says and brushes his fingers down Darren's bare back, the pads of his fingers feather-light against his skin.

Darren holds his breath to not shudder visibly.

“You're good?” Chris asks.

Then adds, “Respond.”

“Yes,” Darren says. His voice sounds oddly conversational. “Yes, Sir.”

Just as Chris's fingers reach the small of Darren's back he stops. The silence is a weight that Darren doesn't mind. Chris's fingers trace back up the same line he'd touched on the way down until they reach the nape of Darren's neck. They grace his hairline. Darren breathes. A single finger moves along the shell of his ear. Every faint touch is a reward, a “ _good boy_ ”.Chris's mere presence thunders with “ _submit to me_ ”.

Darren's heart claps and strains when Chris pulls the hands away, but he doesn't break. There's shuffling and the breeze that hits Darren is ice. Chris is only standing back up, but he feels miles away now that Darren's been spoiled with touches.

He expects Chris to give him a command and leave, but then the tell-tale sound of a zipper being undone fills the room and Darren salivates with want.

Chris doesn't touch him. Darren hears the slick sound of a wet hand moving up and down a cock and long exhales turning into hitching breaths as Chris brushes a special sweet spot. Darren's body tenses. He wants to inch forward and jut out his bottom lip. He wants his tongue to guide the way until he tastes the salty tanginess of the head of Chris's cock. He could suck the orgasm right out of him, if he was allowed. But he isn't. Chris hasn't said anything, and all Darren is able to go by is his hearing. The one satisfaction he'll let himself revel is that Chris is watching  _him_  as he masturbates. Darren's submission is what has Chris so wound up he can't help but.

After only a few moments, Chris lets the orgasm hit him full force, doesn't hold out, and the warm jizz covers Darren's face and blindfold. His hair gets sticky with it. Darren breathes out and dares a smile, a fucking  _smile_ , because some of it landed on his bottom lip that he sucks into his mouth. He can taste him. He sweats where he's kneeling. He feels hot all over. And he's overcome with a sense of gratitude towards his Master.

It's a risk, but Darren dares utter, “Thank you, Sir.”

He wishes he could see Chris's face in this moment, because Chris says nothing.

A heavy moment passes before Chris's hand cups Darren's jaw and his thumb slides through the come on Darren's cheek. It's like falling into an ocean after a year in the desert. It's like breaking out in sobs after holding it in for much too long. Darren's body relaxes except for that one part of him that dangles hard and heavy between his legs, but Chris's palm is his anchor. It's an “ _I love you_ ” filled with gratitude.

Then Chris leaves.

Darren's left alone and he focuses on the scent of sex in the room that Chris left him. He thinks about how lucky he is to have a Master that knows what he needs. He thinks about and feels the faint traces of drying come on his face, because it is exactly what he wants right now. The want is growing. It's made heavy and large by the repeated softening and hardening of his cock, as Darren shifts his focus.

Darren empties his head of thought and worry, because whatever happens in the coming uncounted hours is in Chris's hand. All Darren has to do is wait, and let himself be handled. His Dom was kind enough to lend him a beverage and a release, even if it wasn't Darren's own. It's more than he usually gets. Chris's hand is gentle but firm. He makes sure to treat his Sub well when he deserves it. There are others, Darren suspects, that Chris takes care of. His talent is too rare to make exclusive to one person, even though Darren finds himself wishing he would.

But there are many broken Submissives out there just waiting for the comforting strike of Chris's palm. Darren is intimately aware, because he was once one of them.

One doesn't understand how lost they are when they go between different Doms' beds every other night, shamelessly begging them for what neither party fully grasps that the Sub actually needs. There's pain and restrictions in a rushed flurry that doesn't give a gasp of the release that a scene is really meant for. Darren thought he he had been looking. When Chris found him, Darren understood that he had been searching in all the wrong places.

Because it isn't about orgasming. It isn't about ten seconds of empty bliss. It is about noticing which parts of a Submissive that needs guidance, understanding them, and granting them that in the way they'll best respond to.

Chris reenters the room after a shorter amount of time than Darren expected. He jolts again when he hears the creaking whine of the door as it swings open behind him, and struggles to keep still. Darren is a good Sub, but he has always had trouble with patience. When he wants, he needs it to happen now. When he sees Chris's open palm he wants it to strike him right away.

And so Chris created the waiting game, and bound a blindfold around Darren's head. A Sub that has yet to discover the pleasure in building things up, in the staircase that a scene is supposed to be, is not on his way to a positive outcome. Darren has already found the Dom that best attends his needs. And so far, Chris hasn't given up on him. If it hadn't been for Chris Darren would still be out in the streets and desperate for Dom attention. None of those Doms could give Darren what Chris gives him. Darren feels it in the tension that seeps into his veins when he hears Chris's approaching footsteps, feels it in Chris's warmth when Darren has been good.

Darren's wrists wiggle ever so slightly inside their restrictions on the small of his back, and the first strike to his ass comes so unexpected and sudden that he falls forward with a cry of shocked pleasure. Chris's palm remains on Darren's ass cheek. He squeezes the reddening skin. Darren doesn't move where he's face down on the floor. The fall had been gentle, and the cool floor feels nice against his cheek. Chris's silence has him unmoving. Everything is in the hand on Darren's ass, in the painful pulsing between them.

Chris's fingers wander to Darren's crack, and his previously serene state shifts uncomfortably fast to one of tense desperation. His muscles move beneath his skin. They clamp up with need. When Darren manages to breathe it's through gritted teeth.

“Speak,” Chris demands with a leveled voice.

His fingers slide up and down Darren's crack, never quite reaching where he'd most like to be touched, and the sensations crawl over Darren's body. At first Darren only huffs sounds, wriggles a little bit against the restraints, into Chris's touch. He is not sure if he is allowed to beg.

“Chris,” Darren eventually sighs.

“I've got you.”

Darren whines, and Chris repeats himself, “I've got you.”

Darren's breathing gets harder, more restrained. His body thrums on the edge of something, right on the surface. Darren shakes, his heart hammers inside his chest, his face scrunches up. His throat is clogged, and for once he can't say  _anything_. He wants to sob with the intensity that the scared, apprehensive part of him refuses but the Sub part of him is running straight into.

Chris shoves a dry finger inside his asshole, and Darren floats.

White noise. Buzzing. Every last smack feels like a gentle caress. Darren has never felt so held before.

Chris uses a small, lubricated toy on him first, and the rhythm with which Chris fucks him becomes the one constant in his mind. The hard surface of the floor feels soft against his face and knees. Darren can feel Chris's hard against his ass, and pre come leaking down the back of his thigh. He isn't sure if it's his or Chris's.

The sensation of his stimulated prostate overwhelms him and accelerates from zero to a hundred in such a short amount of time that Darren sobs helplessly and comes around the toy.

“I've got you.”

Darren almost resurfaces once the orgasm's subsided and Chris is bent over his back, chest weighing against him like a second skin. The solidity of his Dom over him, easing out the toy and replacing it with his fingers, keeps Darren floating. He exhales on a whine, but he's smiling. He can feel Chris's smile in return against the back of his shoulder. It pierces through the buzziness and makes Darren's chest contract with joy.

“My boy,” Chris murmurs affectionately as he rubs his free hand down one of Darren's ass cheeks.

It disappears to return in a loud smack that vibrates through Darren's body. He shudders. His skin prickles. Chris's blows cool air onto the pebbled skin on Darren's back, and it makes him clench hard around Chris's fingers. Before Chris Darren figured him and his partner were done after one orgasm each, but with this Dom it's rarely even an option. It's sometimes long between the times they get together for scenes, but each time they do is a full-body experience. It's bruises and cleansing orgasms. It's commands for Darren to follow until him and Chris see each other next time. It's a cheeky grin that whispers the possibility that  _maybe someday_ this will be everyday. Maybe someday.

“You've been practicing your patience,” Chris murmurs, still rubbing Darren's ass cheek and keeping two fingers inside of him. “I can tell. You've come so far.”

Darren sighs and feels the compliment. It's true. He's not the same person he was seven months ago.

It's not called for, as Chris doesn't give praise to get anything in return, but Darren can't help it.

“It's all thanks to you, Sir.”

Chris tenses behind him. The insistent rubbing on his ass softens.

“Chris?” Darren asks, blinking, but Chris won't even slap him.

This isn't what was supposed to happen. Darren has no idea what Chris is thinking. He needs to know what he's thinking. He needs to feel him or hear him. Darren doesn't know what to  _do._

There is more to being a Sub than their Dom. Darren can still be independent and have Chris take care of him. He thinks all these things. Repeats them in his mind. But in moments like this the void Chris's silence leaves empties his chest of that assurance. He reverts back to who he was before his progress and yet again fears emotions and Submissiveness. He fears who he is.

Chris pulls out the fingers, but Darren is still a solid being. Chris straightens back up, and Darren is anxious. Chris doesn't touch Darren for five excruciating seconds, and Darren's muscles tense to ease the thundering of conflicting emotions battling within him.

It isn't until Chris unties the blindfold around Darren's head that he starts to sweat, promptly keeping his eyes shut tight. It isn't until Chris releases Darren's hands from the confinement of the ropes that Darren falls apart.

It happens in practiced subtlety. In uneven breathing, standing still and keeping quiet, in appearing as a wall and in closed eyes. But before Darren can completely revel in the fact that he's made a mistake, Chris flips him over and covers him with his body, mouthing on his collarbones and tracing Darren's jawline with the bridge of Chris's nose.

“Open your eyes.”

The command is breathed out, and Darren obeys.

Darren has never been released of his confides during a scene before. Ever.

He lies completely still and lets Chris kiss his neck. He lets Chris trace his side with wandering fingers. But he doesn't let himself relax under the touch, or become comforted by it.

“You are more than who you are to me,” Chris murmurs.

Darren holds on to the fear. His body is rigid and he hurts, and there's a familiarity in that that Darren hasn't had enough time away from to refuse now.

“You let me in,” Chris continues between soft kisses. “You were the one who was hurting, hurting most anyway, and you let yourself accept what I was willing to give you to mend your pain.”

Darren's wandering gaze lands on Chris's eyes when he stops kissing him and just looks at his Sub. Darren would shy away, but Chris's eyes are just as intoxicating as they always are even now when Darren is fighting his hardest not to feel anything.

“I am not a knight in shining armor,” Chris says. “I am the person who was there when you were ready to be loved.”

Darren melts, and Chris's lips meet his.

When Chris pulls back, Darren exhales; “Chris...”

Chris squeezes Darren's biceps. Darren automatically pulls them above his head, against the floor, and stares at Chris with trusting eyes. Chris's hands cover Darren's and he never breaks eye contact.

"I'm going to fuck you until I come,” Chris says.

The “ _and then we'll talk_ ” goes unsaid but is so loud in Chris's expression that Darren swears he hears it.

Chris waits for Darren's nod of consent before he hitches Darren's legs up and over his shoulders. He draws a hand back to line his cock up with Darren's asshole and when the head is inside of him, his hands clasp Darren's again. Not the wrists. Not pressing down in delicious pain. Chris levels his weight against Darren's open palm and allows their fingers to intertwine.

When Chris enters him Darren realizes that this is no longer a scene.

There are times when sex is just sex. Doms and Subs are considered equal in their generation, so it's not about that when _just sex_ happens. It's a fairly regular thing, as one night stands for people who just want to get off, and it happens in relationships. It isn't that big of a deal.

But when it happens between two people who have never identified one another as something other than their Submissive or their Dominant, it is...

It is something else. Darren is not sure if he has heard of it before.

With Chris inside of him, as close to him as he can physically get, with their open palms touching. This is something else.

This is not a Dominance and a Submission. This is two people who have tried living without one another long enough to realize that they don't want to. Chris fucks him and his breathing becomes more and more restrainted as he follows his own pleasure. He goes faster and squeezes Darren's hands. He covers Darren's open mouth with his own. Darren gets hard again when Chris's wet tongue slides into his mouth and he suckles on Darren's bottom lip. Darren realizes he's fully capable of coming again when Chris slams home and cries out, hips going to a stop where he's buried inside Darren.

“Touch yourself until you come,” Chris groans in the wake of his orgasm.

Darren slips one hand between them and jerks his cock. It feels big and heavy in his hand. He's hard as a fucking rock. With Chris, albeit softer, still pressing up against his prostate it doesn't take many strokes for him to climax, the moans shocked out of him as he's overwhelmed by the force of the orgasm.

Chris slips out, cleans Darren with a warm, wet cloth and wraps him up in a bed that smells like flower scented laundry detergent. One large, fluffy pillow supports his head and his hands are wrapped around a hot cup of tea with milk and honey. It feels like a caress in the most gentle of ways, and Darren slips under again when Chris sits down next to him and keeps him company as he finishes the warm drink.

Chris puts the cup away once it's empty, and carefully wraps an arm around Darren's shoulders. Darren goes easily, molding himself into Chris's side. He breathes in against his chest. Chris is dressed in a thin cotton sweater that feels soft against Darren's cheek.

When Darren sighs it feels like his first real exhale for hours. A dry sob follows, and an almost painful clenching inside his chest that isn't sadness but something else. Something that only Chris brings out of him. It isn't quite joy and it doesn't quite measure up to gratitude.

It's Chris wrapped around him and knowing that he's loved. It's all of Darren's painful past experiences ending up in Chris's secure embrace. It's having been robbed of something crucial and finally being able to trust again.

“I've got you,” Chris whispers.

Darren isn't crying, but Chris presses his lips to his head and rubs his chest as though he was.

“Do you understand what happened before?” Chris asks, gently tilting Darren's chin up to look at him.

Watching Chris's face now is different, now that they're not in a scene. Darren senses an insecurity there, underlined by the crease between his brows and the one corner of his mouth that is nervously turned upwards. When Chris is solely Darren's Dom, his Master, there is no trace of this vulnerability. Darren finds that being reminded of it so soon afterwards kind of puts things in perspective.

“Besides you severely underestimating yourself?”

Darren goes for the cheeky joke, and Chris half scolds, half stares adoringly in return. The tension dissipates a little bit. It allows Darren to actually think about the fact that Chris fucked him with no restraints or blindfold, while reassuring him that he is his own person and that all of him doesn't belong to Chris.

“No, I-,” Darren sighs. “I think I do. But I'm not... I'm just not  _there_ yet.”

Chris gives him a measured look.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

How come he has no idea how to express his thoughts when they make so much sense in his head? Darren shifts a little, doesn't cling to Chris quite as hard. He turns his head and looks up at the ceiling.

“I'm not as... I don't understand things the way you do.”

Darren says it so quietly, like it doesn't dare out of his mouth any louder.

“Darren, you will never be  _there_ ,” Chris says. His voice is kind, but firm. “You will always be working through something, more or less. There is no such thing as a complete person. I don't want you to get down on yourself for not finishing an impossible task.”

“I was only saying that I'd come a long way thanks to you,” Darren says, going for details.

“You said it was  _all_ thanks to me,” Chris corrects him. “That's not gratitude. That's self-deprecation.”

Silence, because Darren doesn't have a response.

“I love you,” Chris says.

Darren turns to look at Chris again. His eyes are open and vulnerable with the meaning of the phrase. Darren's mouth opens and closes around the whisper of it said back, and Chris goes in to kiss his puckered lips softly.

Kissing is rare when they're just like this, so Darren decides to indulge in it. Eyes closed, pressing back a little but not too hard. He makes sure to fully appreciate the sensation.

Chris pulls back, and there's the same vulnerability to his gaze when he opens his eyes.

“I know what you mean, though,” he says eventually. “And I swear. I'm not going to leave you.”

Darren's breath catches. Chris cups his jaw and strokes his cheek with his thumb. There's pain in his eyes.

“You're not some science project that I took home to see if I could fix on my own,” he says. “I care about you. No matter how much progress you make, I'll be by your side.”

There it is again. Chris articulating Darren's thoughts in a way that he himself never thought to. He's not  _there_ yet: He's not ready to take on the world on his own and find a Dom that is looking for a good, trained Sub. He's not ready to develop a real relationship with someone. He will never be ready for that, because the one person he wants that with is right here in front of him. How could he ever be ready to walk away from it?

“Chris,” Darren says.

“Just...,” Chris breathes out, blinking. “Stay the night this time. We'll figure something out.”

Darren nods. That wasn't a command. It was a question, and Darren accepts. He is going to spend the night sleeping in his lover's, his Dom's, bed and there's so much in that that Darren has never wanted before.

One thing is for certain, though.

He wants it with Chris.


End file.
